Reynaldo’s body temperature was checked the third time and the reading never changed: 38.2 degrees Celsius. If the soldiers were to strictly implement checkpoint protocol, they would have to send the 57-year-old worker back to the provincial side of the border. Instead, they let him pass through on the condition that he buys paracetamol to drink.
He checks his pocket for cash and pulls out the last bill he has, a crumpled P500 that he plans to add to his family’s budget for the next two weeks or so, or until the Luzon-wide community quarantine is lifted and business will be as usual. He removes his cap and scratches his head. Reynaldo’s stuck between prioritizing his health and buying his family’s needs.
Last night his boss announced the factory where he is working for as a machine operator for 25 years now will shut down for the duration of the lockdown. No work, no pay, it was made clear. He woke up 7:30 in the morning to begin his way home crossing three regions from Canlubang, Laguna, where the factory is located, to Metro Manila, where the checkpoints are set up, and to San Jose del Monte, Bulacan, where his home is.
He finally reached the Muntinlupa border past 1 in the afternoon only to be stopped by soldiers manning the checkpoint. Reynaldo walked roughly 36 kilometers for six straight hours, and it’s automatic for the body to exceed normal temperature after that. He still has a few kilometers to overcome before reaching Alabang, where he is hoping against hope to find a bus that would bring him to Quezon City and closer to Bulacan.
I walked him to a nearby convenience store and got him sandwich, paracetamol and water. He was at first hesitant to accept it, even insisted on paying me cash, but I said it’s the little that I can do to help. Before we parted ways, I asked him how will he get home if he finds no bus in Alabang.
Reynaldo shrugged his shoulders and told me the obvious: Kung wala, lakad lang.
Image credits: Elijah Felice Rosales